


A little Fear Never Hurt Anybody

by StartingWithTheRidingCrop



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Military Kink, PWP, Smut, kind of touches on sherlocks obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StartingWithTheRidingCrop/pseuds/StartingWithTheRidingCrop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the hounds of Baskerville. They both arrive back at the flat and John is relentlessly taking the piss out of Sherlock, Sherlock goes in a huff… That’s pretty much it for the way of plot; this is a quick one shot, basically porn with a bit of plot, tried to be light-hearted with a smattering of fluff and a lot of porn :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little Fear Never Hurt Anybody

**Author's Note:**

> This was wrote for a friend as a reward for getting her dissertation finished so here you are and enjoy!

John was still laughing as he walked up the stairs to 221b Baker Street. Since they left Dartmoor, until their arrival at their shared flat John just could not contain himself and he saw a golden opportunity for some pay back for the times Sherlock had given him hell. He had to admit, yes it was a bit childish but it was working and that was all that mattered.   
He could tell it was working because Sherlock was currently starting one of his glorified strops and was possibly on the verge of throwing a tantrum which in turn made John laugh that little bit harder.

“John stop laughing, this is ridiculous.” He could hear the tantrum in his voice and he knew he would pay for this horrifically later but please god let him have this one moment of joy.

“But Sherlock, you were _scared._ You freaked out, and you were all ‘normal person’ and you are absolutely denying it happened please let me have this!”

“There was a perfectly sound reason behind what happened, I explained it all to you…”

“Yes in great detail.” Sherlock scowled at the interruption,

“So just please drop it!” He basically hissed the last two words before pushing past John on the stairs only stopping when a firm hand gripped his wrist. He turned to see John now finally showing some sense as he had a serious look on his face,

“Listen Sherlock, I am sorry, I can see how much it is affecting you and I will drop it.” After he had apologised, the serious look managed to remain on his face for approximately 0.2 milliseconds before he had to stifle back a laugh.

“Oh for God’s sake John!” Sherlock pulled his wrist from John’s grip and practically stomped up the rest of the stairs and the next thing John knew he was hearing Sherlock’s bedroom door slam before a heavy silence settled in the flat.

“Well you’ve done it now haven’t you?” John mentally chastised himself, perhaps the short term hilarity of that was _not_ going to be worth the figurative shit storm that had already started to follow. He knew it would now be like living with a moody teenager for, at his best guess, around a week. Once it had lasted two weeks and by the end of it he was genuinely considering calling Mycroft and he really did not want to let it get to that.

What was he to do? Apologising never really worked on Sherlock, all that would happen is that John would get a lecture on how pointless apologising actually is which would probably turn into a history lesson on the origins of the bloody word.   
He shook his head; he would just have to do what he always did and be extra ‘nice’ to him. Actually no, he was getting rather sick of having to do that, he never got that treatment when Sherlock was an insensitive prick _which was practically all of the time!_ He was just going to tell Sherlock to suck it up and stop acting like a child, it was getting past the point of ridiculous, and for someone so smart he could be so damn stupid.  
He practically marched up the stairs and through the hall until he was standing outside Sherlock’s door.

“Sherlock let me in or so help me god I will kick down the door.”

“Go away John!” Yes it was exactly like dealing with a moody teenager, being nice about it obviously would not work on Sherlock so he had no choice but to ‘break in’ to Sherlock’s room. He obviously first tried the door, he knew it wouldn’t open but it was admittedly something everyone done no matter how much they would deny it. John did however get a shock when the door opened; the bastard hadn’t even locked it!   
He walked into the room to find Sherlock throwing a tantrum by lying face down on his bed huffing every so often into the pillow underneath his face.

“Sherlock, snap out of it. You say you are a genius, that you are above other people, and here you are acting like a petulant child and I have had enough!” John couldn’t help but raise his voice, his commanding tone carrying throughout the room.  
Sherlock tensed on the bed, John just assumed it was surprise at the fact John had even shouted like that but he became slightly suspicious when Sherlock didn’t answer him back.

“Sherlock? Are you… okay?” Sherlock remained lying face down on the bed so his answer was more of a muffled ‘mmph’ than a proper reply though John could still tell it sounded strained,

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sherlock remained silent and John stood there waiting for an answer for what seemed like an age before he decided he had had enough.

“Sherlock Holmes tell me what is wrong so help me god!”  His commanding voice echoed around the room and Sherlock tensed again. John frowned, he noted it was only when he used ‘that voice’ when Sherlock tensed, he thought back to when they arrived at the Reichenbach base and he had used the same voice. Sherlock had… reacted then too.   
Maybe… No, it couldn’t be…  Well there was only one way to find out. He took a breath and prepared his best ‘captain’ voice,

“Sherlock Holmes if you do not snap out of it this instant and sit up there will be severe consequences!” The reaction was almost instant and Sherlock rolled over onto his back before sitting cross legged on the bed, though he was still sulking with a slump in his shoulders. Well this was all certainly unexpected to say the least and it was well… rather nice? Was it nice, he was sure it was something? He was definitely enjoying it… a bit.   
He was brought back from his own thoughts when Sherlock spoke,

“Are you quite done thinking? It’s annoying.” Well that was short lived John sighed wondering if pulling rank on Sherlock would always work, he was definitely going to have fun finding out.

“Quiet! Were you given permission to speak?” Sherlock instantly shut his mouth and there was an almost imperceptible shake of his head and he shifted so his hands were resting in his lap. He saw Sherlock’s downcast eyes, as if he was waiting for his next order and John started to feel a warm flush rise up his neck to his cheeks tinting them slightly pink. He felt the need to see how far he could push this but he was… unsure. Unsure that he may be reading the situation wrong, and unsure about the fact he might just be making a complete and utter arse of himself. He would just have to find out,

“Sherlock, to the edge of the bed, feet on the floor and sit at attention.” Sherlock shifted slightly but did not move to the edge of the bed, john rolled his eyes. This was a ridiculous idea and he felt like a totally prat until he took another look at Sherlock, he could see that he wanted to move but was for some reason hesitant. Although he couldn’t blame him, John was rather hesitant about this too but as they say ‘in for a penny in for a pound’.

“Sherlock. Now!” He finally started to move, making his way to the edge of the bed and swinging his legs over placing his feet on the floor, John noticed he tried to keep his hands on his lap but soon ignored it as Sherlock sat up straight. Did this man ever wear shirts that fit, really? The buttons strained slightly over his chest as he straightened his spine and moved his shoulders back.   
_I wonder what it would be like if the shirt was open and his mussed curls were framing a flushed face._ John felt his cheeks redden even further, he had surprised himself with his own thoughts, surprised but not entirely dismissive of them.  John swallowed thickly, well here goes,

“Unbutton your shirt.” He saw Sherlock hesitate again, oh god what if he had messed up. What if he misread the situation, he would never hear the end of this, damn it! His train of though was soon interrupted however as he saw Sherlock raise his hands to the top of his shirt and start undoing the second button, the first already being undone.

John let his eyes trail down from Sherlock’s chest; following the buttons of his shirt down and ohh… that was why he was reluctant to move his hands from his lap. He had been hiding his full ‘reaction’ to John that was now clearly visible by the rather noticeable bulge in his trousers.   
He only managed to stop staring after he noticed Sherlock’s hands return to his lap; the shirt now unbuttoned revealing pale skin that was almost begging to be touched.

“Get up, shirt off and stand at attention.” John straightened his back; he was certainly starting to enjoy this,   
“This instant private!” Sherlock stood up, moving smoothly from where he was sat on the bed and let the shirt fall from his shoulders, an expanse of fine skin covering a toned torso that John had to restrain himself from immediately going to touch.   
John moved around Sherlock, taking this rare opportunity to take him in you could see why most people thought him untouchable. There was an unnatural beauty about him, that if you touched then it would dissipate and you would never get the chance again.   
  
John grinned; well he wasn’t a soldier for nothing. He moved forward, closer to Sherlock, until he was standing at his side facing him. He let his eyes trace down the slight curve of his spine as he stood at attention, he eyes then moving to the visible skin of Sherlock’s hips and the faint dusting of hair trailing down to beneath the waistband of his trousers.

John felt his breathing speed up slightly as he raised a hand and let his fingertips trail down Sherlock’s back, the skin was soft under his touch, goose pimples rising on the skin showing that Sherlock was clearly responding to the touch.   
John had to clear his throat before he spoke again, trying to keep his voice even and restrained.

“Now your trousers don’t make me ask twice.” As he said this he placed a hand on Sherlock’s should and gave a slight squeeze, more of a slight warning than anything and Sherlock hands flew to the button of his trousers and it was undone as fast as possible. As soon as the zip was undone the material of his trousers was pooling around his ankles and Sherlock was stepping out of them, shoes having already been taken off when he came to sulk in his room. As soon as they were off Sherlock returned to standing at attention, which pleased John more than it probably should have.

John moved away and finally let himself take in the sight of Sherlock clad in nothing but rather thin boxers; he felt the blood rush to his face again tinting his cheeks red. He also felt he blood staring to pool in his groin, soon making his jeans feel rather restricting causing him to start and fidget slightly where he stood.

“This is ridiculous.” John froze as Sherlock’s voice broke the silence, oh he had messed up. He had also messed up by thinking Sherlock would stop being a dick for once and oh god he would never let this go would he? John groaned inwardly and was just about to say something in reply before he was interrupted,

“You are taking far too long.” John blinked rapidly, what? Well he wasn’t expecting that, it seemed the surprise of Sherlock’s statement had shut of all brain function and he had no idea how to respond. He certainly had no idea how to respond when Sherlock was moving toward him and the next thing he knew Sherlock’s hands had a firm grip on the tops of his arms.

“S-Sherlock? What are y…” He was cut off mid-sentence as Sherlock basically threw him down on the bed, his breath left him in a gasp.

“W..” John was immediately cut of as Sherlock crawled on top of him, the look in his eyes almost predatory.  
 John had never expected this, wished it? Perhaps, but never expected it. He always saw Sherlock as unattainable, something he could never have so he just well… dealt with it in his own way; stolen moments in the shower when Sherlock was out, distracting himself with girlfriends hoping it would all go away. Yet now here he was, pinned under the consulting detective himself under intense scrutiny from eyes with blown pupils, dark with want.

“Too many clothes.” As soon as Sherlock has said this he was pulling John up by the front of his jumper and impatiently trying to tug it over his head, he barely had time to raise his arms but his jumper was soon joining Sherlock’s clothes on the floor.   
Sherlock pushed john back down into the mattress, pinning he there by his shoulders. One look into John’s eyes silently told he not to move and he surprisingly found himself more than willing to obey.   
He tried to calm his breathing as he remained still but lifted his head slightly so he could watch Sherlock as deft fingers started to unbutton his shirt, slowly and purposefully.  His fingers were elegant as they worked at the fastenings, brushing against exposed skin as they worked their way down; John could not stop himself from imagining those fingers exploring every inch of his skin, working their way down and leaving no part of him untouched, followed by Sherlock’s lips, God those lips were unholy. He could imagine the feel of those plush lips wrapped around his… wait no he had to stop; it would be over before anything happened at this rate.

Sherlock easily picked up on the change in John’s breathing as he was slowly undressing him, noting the slight barely there upward movements of John’s hips, looking for contact. It would seem that he was more impatient than Sherlock himself although he did surmise that this had perhaps been a long time in coming.

As soon as John’s shirt was finally unbuttoned Sherlock sat John up, almost tenderly, and slid the shirt of his shoulders but stopped the material going any further than his forearms and paused.

“Sherlock?” He smiled softly at John before expertly wrapping the material of his shirt around his wrists and tying it, John knew that Sherlock could not see what he was doing but he could not help but be in impressed. That was certainly something, getting the opportunity to be impressed by Sherlock’s ‘tying up’ skills, who would have seen that day coming?  
As Sherlock was making sure it was firmly secured he pushed John back down, his hands now trapped underneath him. Though he would never admit it out loud John was more than enjoying the feeling of being restrained, perhaps it was the adrenaline junkie in him, and perhaps this was just another battlefield he was craving to see.

Nearly all coherent thought was lost when Sherlock settled back over him, this time pushing his hips down practically grinding against John who bucked his hips upwards, damning his jeans to hell for being in the way.   
Sherlock moved his face closer to John's until there was barely a whisper of breath between their lips, 

"John, are you sure?" They were so close john felt rather that heard Sherlock's deep voice, it took him a moment to register what Sherlock had said and he was focused on the effect his voice had. Once he realised what Sherlock was asking he let out a small huff of laughter, 

"Yes, god yes. Why wouldn't I be? Hadn't you deduced it or something?" If John's hands were free he would run them through Sherlock's errant curls and finally rid that last bit of space between their lips. Though john had to admit the fact that Sherlock had control, and all of this depended on Sherlock only made him more aroused.

"This will change everything you know." John could feel the low rumble of Sherlock's voice again and it was as if the sound travelled straight to his groin making him damn his jeans yet again. 

"God, Sherlock please. Just, please." John raised his head, determined to close the space between them but Sherlock decided it would be at his pace and moved back slightly so he was still just out of reach.  He dipped his head down, his mess of hair brushing along John’s jaw as he finally pressed his mouth to the side of John’s neck feeling the speeding heartbeat beneath his lips and smiling softly against the skin.   
He started to move his mouth, ever so slightly at first, working his way around John’s neck; John had soon tilted his head back, encouraging Sherlock’s actions. Once Sherlock had peppered his neck with kisses he worked his tongue up the side of the man’s neck before biting down lightly on the junction just below his ear, producing a small sound from John that could be described as nothing other than filthy.

John’s mind then nearly went blank when Sherlock finally kissed him, the plush lips were firm against his own and he immediately regretted not doing this sooner. He let his eyes slowly shut as his lips started moving and John responded in kind, the movement was soon followed by the teasing flick of a tongue against his bottom lip.

There was soon an exploratory tongue sliding between his teeth, it was hot and slick but it was slow as if Sherlock was testing the boundaries to see what would work and what wouldn’t. But in all honesty anything Sherlock did at that moment would work for him, he was beyond worked up, a hot flush covered his entire body and a slight sheen of sweat covering his brow.   
  
Sherlock’s needy mouth soon left his, which John was not too happy about though he was soon placated when he felt the light scratch of fingernails drag across his hip, leaving light red trails in their wake. Sherlock’s long fingers were then rapidly working at the fastenings of his jeans until they were loose, John eagerly raised his hips so the jeans could be pulled of and discarded alongside the rest of their clothes.   
He let out a low groan as Sherlock started to palm him through the thin material of his boxers, he thrust up slightly needing more of the touch, he could of course easily sat up and cast-off the shirt keeping his hand pinned beneath him but he so hopelessly wanted to be Sherlock’s completely he remained in place.

John let out a questioning huff when Sherlock moved away from him, removing his hand and sitting up.

“Sh…” Before John could even finish saying his name he was being pulled up by his shoulders and Sherlock was removing the shirt keeping his arms in place, as soon as his arms were free he flexed his shoulders then pulled Sherlock down on top of him.   
He let his hands explore the skin on Sherlock’s back, alternating between barely touching and scratching, feeling the detective react to every movement before he moved his hands down and pressed Sherlock’s hips down to move against his own. As they started to move slightly against each other soft gasps escaped both men as the gentle friction became too little and they both needed more.

Sherlock was the first to move, the first to become impatient. He lifted slightly off John and moved his lips back to his neck except this time it was to claim John as his own. Sherlock bit down at the soft skin, not as gently this time and started to mark him; John tried to raise his hips off the bed to find the friction he wanted but Sherlock wouldn’t let him and simply moved further away.   
  
After a few moments Sherlock pulled back his head and took as second to appreciate the already visible mark on John, a stark contrast against his lightly tanned skin. Sherlock then started to move down the bed, leaving a trail of soft kisses and light nips across John’s chest before covering one of the nipples with his mouth. He let his teeth drag along the surrounding area ever so slightly as his tongue moved over the flesh earning himself a barely audible moan from John, Sherlock took his time before moving to the other side, John’s breaths becoming faintly quicker with impatience and arousal.

Sherlock’s hand finally moved down between their bodies to palm john though the thin material of his boxers, John rutting up into his hand at the much needed contact, gasps breaking the silence of the bedroom.   
He started placing kisses down John’s torso working his way down John’s body, John shivering at the feather light kisses being placed on his body lighting each of his nerves on fire. John’s breath stopped as Sherlock’s lips reaches the hem of his boxers, his lips caressing the sensitive skin of his hips drawing a gasp from John as he lightly bit down.

Sherlock’s hand withdrew and his long fingers slipped beneath the band of John’s underwear, nails softly scratching the skin on his hips while he pulled the material down, freeing John’s aching erection, removing the underwear and dropping them on the floor.   
John let out a drawn out moan when Sherlock lips, without warning, wrapped around the head, tonguing at the sensitive flesh. Sherlock took more of him into his mouth; gently sucking as he moved down the length.

Sherlock’s hand reached around john and moved under him, his fingertips skimming the small of his back, the sensation slightly tickling John so he bucked up into his mouth, the heat driving him crazy.

“Sher… Sh… Sherlock, please, slow down.” John was practically on the verge already and he so desperately wanted this to last. Sherlock slowly worked his way back up John’s length and released it with an obscene lick of his lips, John groaned, this man would be the death of him.   
John took a moment to bring himself back down from the edge and thanked every higher power that Sherlock had stopped or he would have came embarrassingly fast; he felt like a giddy teenager and he wasn’t sure if that was even a bad thing.

John let out a huff of frustration as Sherlock moved from the bed, yes he wanted him to slow down but he didn't want him to stop. He needed more. He raised himself up on his elbows so he could try and see what Sherlock was doing and felt a small rush of excitement run through him as he saw Sherlock moving back over to the bed, this time a small bottle in his hand. 

Sherlock moved back over him, his eyes were dark and John shivered. It was almost voracious and he was pinned by his gaze, he didn’t think he would be able to move even if he wanted to as Sherlock’s hand splayed over his chest and pushed him back down into the mattress.

John remained exactly where he was when Sherlock moved his hand thinking it would keep Sherlock happy if John was… compliant. The smirk that appeared on Sherlock’s face said it all and John swallowed slowly, the tension in the room was now palpable as if were physical hanging in the air causing the room to feel warmer.   
The smaller man resisted the strong urge to pull Sherlock down on top of him and get things moving, his skin was prickling with need and he was becoming impatient but apparently so was Sherlock and not a moment later he heard the cap of the bottle opening.

He felt a small nudge against the inside of his thigh and immediately parted his legs, perhaps too quickly as Sherlock let out a small huff of laughter at how eager John was. In all fairness it was only a matter of time before this happened, he just never thought John would be this… keen.   
  
John gasped when he finally felt a slicked up finger work around his entrance, just stroking, letting him get used to the sensation before gently pushing in. John was torn between wanting to get used to the intrusive sensation and already wanted more, he tried to relax back into the bed but cursed loudly when Sherlock finally hit is prostate and his other hand had moved to work around his shaft.

It took all of John’s will to stay still and not buck his hips, the sensations becoming engulfing as Sherlock added another finger.  John was already starting to feel too full with Sherlock's long fingers moving inside of him but he was verging on begging for more, begging for Sherlock.   
  
"Calm down John." Sherlock sounded unaffected but the flush over his sharp cheekbones and his irregular breaths told John otherwise, he was more than likely just as eager but trying to take it slow for John.   
  
"Sherlock, we can take all the bloody time in the world another day but please just nnghn" John was cut short as Sherlock let his hand rub over the sensitive head of John's length, leaving a salacious trail of precum along his palm.   
  
"You are far too impatient John." Though as Sherlock said this he entered another finger slowly, letting his hand return to moving along John's shaft to ease the slight pain of the intrusion. He began to move his fingers in earnest now, scissoring them every so often making sure john was thoroughly prepared and wanting.   
The sounds that were coming from John’s mouth were lewd to say the least and only served to make Sherlock the one who could not seem to wait any longer, John wanted more and he would get more. Sherlock carefully removed his fingers and stood, his movements graceful even when he could barely get his own boxers off fast enough, letting out a small hiss as the waistband rubbed against him as he removed them. He nearly jumped on John once his boxers had joined the others on the floor, he settled between John’s legs, running a hand up his thigh before lightly dragging his fingernails back down leaving faint red lines in their wake and drawing a gasp from John.John saw Sherlock reach for the bottle again, using one arm to keep his weight off John who could help but watch as he slicked himself up, his hand moving slowly as if he was doing it on purpose just to tease John.  There was a gasp from the doctor as Sherlock shifted his hips forward and lined up to John’s entrance, the tip pressing against him, waiting, even though John tried to urge him forward. 

“Ready?” Sherlock almost grinned, he knew this was winding John up and it was beyond perfect seeing John so needy and wanting beneath him.

“Please, Sherlock. God… just please.” John grasped at Sherlock’s back, his fingernails starting to dig in as he pulled Sherlock toward him.   
The feeling was intense as Sherlock entered him, it hurt and there was a fullness he had never felt before but there was also a pleasant burn that followed the initial hurt. Once he was buried to the hilt Sherlock stopped moving, allowing John to adjust not wanting this to be anything other than brilliant for John.

“Are you okay?” Sherlock sounded genuinely caring and it sent warmth through John that seemed to start from his chest. He smiled up at Sherlock,

“Yeah, though I won’t be if you don’t start moving soon.” He playfully slapped at Sherlock’s backside, grinning as he did so and Sherlock laughed lightly, John could simply not have been more perfect. He unhurriedly started to move his hips; it was more a roll than a thrust so he was moving but only barely; John gripped at his shoulders, the fingernails that were poised to scratch serving as a silent threat that is he didn’t start moving properly John would have to do something about it.   
  
Sherlock continued to roll his hips, John torn between getting frustrated or enjoying the pleasure he was already getting until a ragged moan was drawn from his lips as Sherlock hit his prostate, it was now obvious that was what Sherlock was trying to do.   
The feral grin that now appeared on Sherlock’s face made john’s cock twitch in anticipation, he was looking at John like he was about to be devoured, John felt trapped and he loved it.

Sherlock stroked a free hand down John’s jaw; the touch was soft and tender and continued down his torso, the action was a sharp contrast for the look on his face as he continued it down his thigh. Thought the affectionate touch was soon forgotten as Sherlock quickly hooked his arm under John’s knee, pulling his leg up, and snapped his hips forward.

“Fuck, S-Sherlock.” John’s reaction urged Sherlock on and he started thrusting into John at a punishing pace, every time he hit John’s sweet spot he was rewarded with a filthy moan. John was tight around Sherlock, it was taking all of his effort to hold on, to make it last.

John was practically clawing at the back, nails breaking the skin but Sherlock relished in the sharp contrast of pain to the pleasure of being in John. A thin layer of sweat was starting to form on both of their bodies with the relentless pace that Sherlock was keeping up, an ache starting to settle in his thighs while John writhed beneath him.   
Sherlock supported himself on one arm and reached down between them, his hand brushing along John’s sweat slicked torso and wrapping firmly around his shaft. John let out a choked moan as Sherlock firmly started to stroke his length, trying to time it with his hard thrusts, the two overbearing points of pleasure combining and starting to coil into the build of a climax.

John took one look at Sherlock above him, the sweat on his forehead dampening his curls, he parted lips that were flushed nearly red, the way his eyes were threatening to roll into the back of his head and all because of John and it was nearly too much.   
With next to no warning he was clutching at Sherlock’s back as he spilled over Sherlock’s hand and his stomach, the force of the climax temporarily leaving him without breath. He trembled beneath the detective and Sherlock continued to move into him, the post climax sensitivity making him hyper aware of every thrust drawing out his shuddering orgasm.

“John, I… I…” Sherlock’s was drawn out and heavy with lust as with a few more thrusts he reached his own climax, his muscles virtually giving out causing Sherlock to nearly fall on top of John groaning loudly as he did so. Thankfully John didn’t mind in the slightest and pulled him down on top of him, his face pressed into the crook of John’s neck.   
The room was filled with the sound of both men trying to catch their breath as John carded his fingers through Sherlock’s sweat dampened hair, the other tracing small circles on the pale skin of his back.

“That was… that was, certainly something. Yes, definitely.” John had no idea what to say. He had just had rather brilliant sex with his flatmate and was at a complete loss for words.

“Shut up John, your inarticulate speech is pointless and moronic.” John swatted Sherlock’s arm lightly before wrapping his own around Sherlock and pulling him closer, kissing his temple softly.

“I love you too you sod.”


End file.
